Hale's Point (13 page)

“See…” Phil had that look on his face, that look that said,
Tucker, you moron, you just don’t get it.
“The operative phrase in that sentence is ‘It doesn’t matter.’ And that’s where
I guess we part company. Because I want there to be things in my life that
matter—and there are. My kids matter. Kitty matters. I love her. I’ll never be
able to stop loving her.” His voice was unsteady. “She
matters.
More than anything. I don’t think I can live without her.”

The depth of Phil’s emotion awed Tucker. For a minute he didn’t
speak, letting his friend get his bearings. A movement from the patio caught
his eye. Harley was stretching like a cat in her chair, back arched, arms and
legs quivering. A strange kind of ticklish warmth filled him, as if someone
were gently stroking his scalp. For a fleeting moment he had a sense of what
Phil felt for the woman he had spent two decades of his life with, created
children with, built his world around. It would be as if that warm tickle never
stopped, just went on and on, filling him with contentment day after day.

What a gift to have it; what a tragedy to lose it.

Phil was still morose, but calm. Tucker said, “I take it you’ve
said these things to Kitty. Told her how you feel, begged her to take you back.”

“God, no. She’d only have contempt for me.”

“What?”

“You know how she is. She’s got this bizarre, otherworldly
reserve. She hates displays. If the tables were turned, she’d never in a
million years come crawling to me, and she’d think I was a spineless worm if I
came crawling to her.”

“My God, it’s catching.”

“What?”

“The Hale’s Point syndrome. Your upper lip stiffens and it
keeps spreading until it reaches your brain, and that’s when you’re really in
trouble.”

Phil scowled. “You’re not talking about the deer-tick thing.”

“God, you’re such an idiot! You and Kitty both!” He grabbed
his cane, stood, and gestured with it toward the beach. “
And
that witless little Princeton snot down there. And venerable
old Liz
Wycliff
, and, last but far from least, the
king of restrained good taste and excellent judgment himself, my beloved sire,
Raleigh Hale, Esquire!”

In the distance, Mimi looked up from her book. Jamie and
Brenna shielded their eyes to peer at him. They almost certainly couldn’t hear
his words, but they were probably curious as to the cause of this unseemly
outburst. He looked toward Harley, once again immobile, her eyes closed.

Phil sat staring at him. “Are you done?”

“No! No! Don’t you understand? A pattern is emerging. This is
fascinating, it really is. I can’t be the only one who sees it.”

Phil grinned. “You know, there
is
a psychiatric unit at the medical center if you ever feel like
you want to discuss this with a professional.”

Tucker used the fingers of one hand to help him track the
relationships. Finger number one: “Liz is in love with
R.H.
,
but
R.H.
is carrying a torch for
Anjelica
and doesn’t notice. Liz, a lifelong victim of Hale’s Point syndrome, feels it
would be bad form to clue him in.”

Finger number two: “Jamie Tilton believes himself to be madly
in love with the au pair, one Brenna.”

Phil said, “Who? I don’t know these people.”

Tucker pointed to the beach. “See the blond kid? That’s
Jamie. See the redhead?” Phil emitted a feral groan that spoke volumes. “That’s
Brenna. Young Jamie, afflicted with the syndrome since birth, conceals his
feelings from said Brenna, thus ensuring that he will eventually lose her to a
man who knows how to take what he wants.”

Finger number three, and now his delivery became more
subdued: “You love Kitty. Kitty loves you.” Phil made a face. “She’s hurt, but
she still loves you, you have to believe that. Kitty was born with the
syndrome, she can’t help it. You, by reason of your lowly birth—” Phil raised
an eyebrow “—for which you should be extremely grateful, were spared it.
However, now, in a bizarre twist, you have actually begun imitating the
symptoms of the syndrome—aloofness, denial of emotion—because you believe that
this is what your wife prefers. When, in fact, she doesn’t
prefer
it at all, she just can’t help it! She’d love it if you
threw yourself at her feet and begged forgiveness and pleaded with her to take
you back. It’s what any normal person would want and expect of a loved one who
had wronged them. It’s also what she deserves, after what you did.”

“Throw myself at her feet.” Phil looked skeptical.

“Absolutely. Make some grand gesture. Have a thousand helium
balloons made up with ‘I Love You, Kitty’ on them, and send them to the castle.”

“A thousand helium balloons.”

“
Something.
My God,
are you willing to give up so easily?”

“It’s not a matter of giving up. If I’m going to go out, I at
least want to go out with some dignity.”

Tucker shook his head. “Well, I think it’s a damn shame. I
say, do not go gentle into that good night.”

“Wasn’t it Dylan Thomas who said that?”

“Well, now
I’m
saying it.” Tucker stamped his cane. It stuck in the soil beneath the grass,
and he yanked it free.

“And it was about death, not divorce.”

“What’s the difference? The end of life, the end of love.”

“Big talk from the king of the broom closets. Have you ever
even had a serious relationship?”

“No, but I’ve got imagination.” Harley rose from her chair,
clasped her hands over her head, and bent from side to side. That warm tickle
crept along his scalp again, and he smiled.

Phil followed his gaze. “She recovered quickly. She’s a
healthy young woman.” He smiled, too. “Very healthy.”

Something in Phil’s tone, in the way he was staring at
Harley, made a silent alarm go off in Tucker’s head. He said, “What happened to
that professional reserve I was admiring so much yesterday? Not to mention your
undying devotion to Kitty.”

Phil said, “Harley is cured. She’s not my patient anymore, so
I’m allowed to take an interest. And as far as Kitty is concerned, it’s true
that I’m deeply and undyingly devoted to her.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m
also lonely. It’s been six months, and there’s been no one. I know now that
Kitty will never have me back. I just want… I want a warm body to reach over
and touch in the middle of the night.”

“Uh-uh. You know better than that. You’re a doctor, for God’s
sake. You should know that you have to treat the cause of a problem, not just
slap on a Band-Aid.”

“There is no cure for my underlying problem, regardless of
your optimistic advice. All I can do is treat the symptoms. And I’ve picked
her—” he nodded toward Harley “—as my treatment of choice.”

For a few seconds Tucker watched Harley stretch first one leg
and then the other behind her while holding on to the back of her chair.
Finally he said, “Pick someone else.”

It took Phil a moment, and then he said, “So she’s just the
house sitter, huh?”

“Just pick someone else.”

Phil was contemplative for a minute. Then he said, “Remember
back when we were kids and we used to argue about competition? You used to say
there was nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, and I said you were
just an unrepentant jock, and competition led to wars and other sundry
miseries?” Tucker answered him with a grim stare. “Well, you’ll be happy to
know I’ve come around to your way of thinking. And to prove that I’m willing to
compete, I’m going to go after Harley. May the best man win.”

“How come, all of the sudden, after six months, you want
her
?”

“How come, all of the sudden,
you
want her?” Phil countered. “Yesterday she was ‘just the house
sitter.’ Now you’ve suddenly staked a claim.”

“You hardly even know her.”

“And you do? When did you meet her? Two, three days ago? And
what makes you think she’d want anything to do with you, anyway? You know, I
hate to point this out, but on the one hand here’s this nice, sweet girl, an M.B.A.
candidate and all, and on the other hand…” He gave Tucker the once-over and
shrugged.

“I’m not a serial killer.” Tucker pointed out.

“You’re not a doctor or lawyer, either, which is probably
what she’s in the market for.” He grinned cockily. “Doctor is my guess.” Tucker
snorted. “Seriously, does she know anything about you? Does she know your
history? Does she know about… Well, does she know about Miami?”

Tucker sighed with irritation. Phil was bringing out the
heavy ammo now. “What, are you threatening to tell her?”

“All’s fair in love and war. It would tip the scales in my
favor, that’s for sure. She seems like a pretty straight arrow. A criminal
record is a real turnoff to a girl like that.”

Tucker gripped the cane with a white-knuckled fist. “I can’t
believe you’d actually—”

“Hey, relax.” Phil stood and gave Tucker a friendly whack on
the arm. “I wouldn’t. Which is not to say I won’t play dirty. I just won’t play
that
dirty.”

A woman’s voice from the beach called, “Phil?” and the two
men turned to look. Mimi, in a white beach cover-up now, walked toward the
boulder stairway. “Phil
Zelin
?”

“Oh, that’s Mimi Tilton,” Phil said, and waved.

“You know each other?” Tucker asked as Mimi climbed up to
them.

Phil smiled at her. “She’s in the Historical Society with
Kitty. Nice girl. Awfully young for widowhood, but it seems to suit her. While
her husband was alive, she always looked kind of tired, but in the past year
she’s really bloomed.”

Mimi joined them. When Phil introduced her to Tucker, she
extended her hand and said, “So you’re the black sheep I’ve been hearing so
much about. You’ll have to tell me which version of your death comes closest to
the truth.”

Tucker laughed, appreciating her candor and wit. She reminded
him of Liz; not in appearance—she was slender, black-haired, and no more than
twenty-five—but she had the self-possession of an older woman.

“Here you are,” said Mimi, and Tucker turned to see Harley
approaching. “I was worried about you. Jamie said you didn’t run yesterday, and
it’s the first day you’ve missed.”

Explanations were made, and Mimi cluck-clucked and promised
to bring over a casserole later—the first time Tucker could remember having
heard such an offer being made in Hale’s Point.

Mimi said, “So, Tucker, it’s a shame
R.H.
turned out to be gone when you got here. What are your plans now? Will you stay
the summer anyway, or do you have obligations elsewhere?”

Phil answered for him. “He’s got a business to look after,
Mimi. He couldn’t afford to take the whole summer off.”

“Actually,” Tucker corrected, “my top pilot’s been running
the business for a year now, and doing a damn good job of it. She wants me to
sell it to her, and I’m thinking about it.”

“She?” Phil said.

“Molly Little. Best pilot I’ve ever worked with.”

“So, stay,” Mimi said. “I’m sure Harley wouldn’t mind.”

Harley glanced from Mimi to the ground, and then looked up
and met Tucker’s eyes. He thought she would look away again, but she held his
gaze.

Phil said, “Business or no business, that’s just not Tucker’s
style, Mimi. A rolling stone like him? My guess is he’ll be gone by sunrise
tomorrow.”

Harley still had not looked away from him. To Phil and Mimi,
her expression probably appeared completely neutral, but Tucker saw something
in it that surprised and pleased him. That distance, that safe remoteness that
had always been there when she looked at him, had vanished. He realized that he
had not been consciously aware of it up till now. Its presence had been subtle,
like a haze in the sky that doesn’t really register until it clears and the sun
shines, bright and powerful.

Phil said, “Isn’t that right, Tucker? Tucker?”

Tucker looked from Phil’s irritated sneer to Mimi’s knowing
smile. “Actually, I, uh, I was thinking of staying on. Till
R.H.
comes back at the end of the summer, anyway. That is, of course, if Harley
wouldn’t—”

Harley’s smile transformed her into a creature of
extraordinary beauty. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind. Please stay.”

Tucker took a deep breath. “All right. That would be great.
Thanks. I’ll try not to get in your way. I’ll pay for half the groceries and I’ll
split the housework with you fifty-fifty.”

Phil guffawed. “
You’re
going to do half the housework? I’m sorry, but I have a hard time picturing Mr.
Bush Pilot Tough Guy in a frilly apron, pushing a broom across the floor.”

“I’ve lived on my own for twenty years,” Tucker said. “Trust
me, I can push a broom with the best of them. Only the apron’s leather, and
there are pockets for my power tools.”

“Do you cook, too?” Mimi asked.

“Just bear meat.”

Harley said, “I don’t mind doing the cooking.”